The Color of Hope
by Death-Harmony
Summary: America has always been fascinated my England's eyes. They varied in color depending upon his mood, it seemed. They were eyes he often found himself lost in... USxUK Rated M for sexual situations.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors notes no one will probably read: **  
**This is my attempt to perfect the cliché story of, "Characters get drunk and mess around!" I have read a lot of fanfiction that follows the same basic plot that I personally find to be uninteresting and lacks creativity. Also, I hate it when the story doesn't explore what happens the morning after. The stories mostly end with, "I love you," and "I love you too." I _hate _this. I cannot stand a story ending in dialogue. There are exceptions, if it is following a quote or something. I feel like there is a more creative way to end a story that leaves the reader feeling fulfilled (not in a dirty way!) as if an epic journey has come to an end. Anyways, this is me, trying to break the mold, so I hope that you enjoy.  
**

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America stood just off the sidewalk under the light of a street lamp, standing outside of a local bar within the city of Washington D.C., drinking in the cool of the night and the city lights. He had stepped out of the bar for a little while to escape the noise and get some fresh air. The loud roar of the crowd had begun to suffocate him, and he had started to develop a headache from it. He relaxed and breathed, thankful for a taste of crisp air and preferred even the faint hint of fast food and car exhaust to the smells of hot burned food, spilled liquor and body sweat that seemed to cling to the stale air within the bar. He leaned against the buildings red bricked wall and took in the area around him, creating a moment of sweet escape for himself.

The background music was made up of some lively music coming from a dance club across the street, the sound of honking cars, and a few words of conversations as people past him by. America sighed and took a long drag off of the cigarette he bummed from a kind stranger. He knew it was a bad habit, but it made him feel a little more relaxed after a stressful day. This whole week Alfred had to deal with Germany, Italy, Japan, France, Canada, China, Russia, and England all staying in his countries capital in various hotels for the World Powers Conference. Since it was hard for every country to meet every six months, the original members of the G8 and China, could afford to meet that often. Once a year there was a world meeting where every other nation would join them and have a world conference. Alfred was lucky he only had to host a few nations in his country.

He played it off like it was all fun and games, and often times it could be, but in reality it was hard keeping everyone away from each others throats sometimes. And when it was your turn to host the most powerful nations of the world within your borders, you had to be at least a little professional and at least look like you're on top of things. Not only did he have to deal with them during the day, but tonight, they had all decided to come to the same bar that night to drink together. He took another hit and grimaced when a loud voice interrupted his thoughts.

"What the bloody hell do you think your doing out here?" A familiar accent asked him. Alfred clenched his teeth and turned to see England, still wearing what he wore to the meeting this morning, a neatly pressed and tailored white collared shirt with a charcoal grey vest with matching dress pants. Same as always, he wore his famous disapproving scowl.

"Fancy meeting you out here." America said in a flat tone. "I thought you would be stoned drunk by now."

Arthur did not look amused. "I thought smoking was banned in public area's, Alfred." He said Alfred, but clearly he meant America, and he said it in a mocking tone. "And on top of that, it's not doing your body any favors by doing that."

"Bite me." Alfred shot back and took another drag. Arthur knew full well that smoking was banned in buildings, and it was perfectly acceptable to do so outside of public places. "It's not like its going to kill me. Plus, your one to talk. Calling me out for smoking, when you still carry a pack in your coat pocket, and drink yourself nearly into a coma."  
Arthur's eyebrow twitched, clearly not liking to be back talked. "Well, if you insist on being an arse but it, at least give me one."

Alfred wanted to tell him to find his own, but that would only piss off the Brit more. And there was still one more day of meetings before the other nations went home to there respective countries. He didn't want to send them home to hate America even more. "Sorry. This is the only one I got."

"Doesn't bother me." Arthur said and without hesitating, took the half-smoked cigarette from Alfred's fingers and brought it to his lips.

Alfred opened his mouth to complain, after all that was his only cigarette, but found himself pausing. He watched as if it were in slow motion play-by-play as Arthur breathed in and held it, savoring the feeling before releasing. A trail of smoke eased out of his mouth when he exhaled and dissipated slowly into the wind. Arthur's green eyes were unforced and glazed, and he looked surprisingly content, seeming to find a slice of peace somewhere within that puff of poison. Alfred gulped and wanted to pull at his collar, suddenly feeling a little warm. Somehow the temperature seemed to spike and he swallowed, all the while Arthur took another drag and this time when he breathed out, he blew a few perfectly formed smoke rings into the air.

The Brit's mouth moved, but Alfred hardly heard what the Brit was saying to him, and instead took the moment to really look over Arthur. Looking past his up-tight nature, his unpleasant attitude, his constant scowling, and his general dislike of anything and anyone who got the better of him, Arthur was fun to be around and Alfred found him rather appealing. Sure, everyone often made fun of his large eyebrows, himself included. But the truth was, they weren't off-putting, not really. There was something about them that seemed to fit him. While it was true that some of his colonies shared this trait with him, to America, it only worked well with his features and gave England his very own unique style. His light golden blonde hair framed his face and looked the best when it was a little unkept and wild, a punk cut could offset his suits to make him appear serious and business-like, but also reflect the inner pirate he used to be in times long past.

And then there were his eyes, America's favorite feature. It was hard to describe their color, as it seemed to change depending on the Brit's mood. Sometimes, when Arthur was angry, usually at him, they appeared like polished Jade, hard and unforgiving. Other times, when he was thoughtfully reading, they seemed to glow like a pair if clean cut Emeralds that held a curious depth. When embarrassed, they seemed guarded, mimicking a misty sea green. With all their variations of emotions and colors, those were eyes America found himself lost in.

Only when Arthur glanced at him and gave him a strange look did Alfred realize he had been staring. His face flushed a little and he quickly looked away. He made an attempted to cover the awkward silence with a forced cough, silently hoping to shift Arthur's attention on something else. Fortunately, the nation seemed to let the odd behavior slide without question.

"Coming back in?" Arthur asked him casually, flicking the ashes at his feet.  
"Y-yeah. In a minute. Just wanted to get some air."

"Alright. I'll buy you a drink as a thank you when you come back in." Arthur offered the cigarette back and Alfred was only dimly aware of taking it. His eyes followed Arthur as he walked away, back into the bar for another drink. He gave the cigarette in his hands on unsure look and bit his lower lip. His mind flashed back, showing him an image of only moments ago as the cigarette was held between Arthur's lips. Alfred felt a familiar heat touch his face. He wasn't sure if he was okay with throwing it out only half smoked. It wasn't about wasting it, since he didn't pay for it, but...would it be weird? Arthur...it had just been in the island nation's mouth and if he happen to finished it...Wouldn't that be like...an indirect kiss? His grip loosened but even as it started to slip, he clutched it tighter.

This might be the closest I ever get. And may be my only chance... Shyly, Alfred brought it back to his mouth and cautiously sucked on the filter, filling his own lungs with another dose of nicotine. Oddly, his chest fluttered with a new feeling. This gave him an all-new high and he drew on it as deeply as he could before letting it go. A warmth spread through his body, washing the stress from him in an oddly fulfilling way. If this is what an indirect kiss felt like, what might a real one do?

When the moment past, he stood, staring down at the cigarette, suddenly feeling guilty for indulging his fantasies. "This...this is silly." He told himself, and put it out on the wall and threw the remains away properly. Part of him wanted to leave now, feeling a little awkward about facing England now, but the Brit was expecting him back. And who could say no to free drinks? He took a clean breath and straightened his shoulders, trying to expel the odd bit of uncertainty he held, and re-entered the bar.

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"Think you can handle it from here?" Alfred asked the Brit, letting go of the arm he had been holding to steady him as they walked the long hallway back to Arthur's hotel room.

He got an immediate answer when Arthur stumbled and tripped into the wall.  
"Guess not."

"Let's go some place else. Maybe one of the strip clubs is still open."  
"No way."

"How about getting something to eat then?"

"I'm not hungry. Plus we have to be up early."

England laughed loudly, ignoring America's attempt to hush him.

"People are trying to sleep. It's like," Alfred checked his phone. "It's nearly two am. We've got to be up for the meeting tomorrow too." He told him, trying to reason with him still. He knew trying to convince a drunken person of anything was hard, and it would only get him frustrated in the end. "You have to go to bed."

"But I'm not tired yet." Arthur said, but the yawn that followed proved he was lying.

He finally got Arthur to his room, number 526. He wished he had been on the first floor. Arthur kept pushing buttons in the elevator, and they had stopped at every floor on the way up. But it would have been harder to drag him up five flights of stairs when he could barely walk straight.

"Arthur, where'd you put your room key?" He asked, but Arthur seemed out of it now, perhaps suddenly feeling the sleepy effects of drinking way to much.

Alfred attempted to search Arthur's pockets, but the ex-pirate was having trouble standing on his own. Leaning him up against the door, using one hand placed on his chest to help steady him, he patted his pockets. "Where did you put your room key?" He asked again, not finding it in the damn key card.

"Wallet. Back pocket." Arthur mumbled softy.

_Great.  
_  
Arthur started pulling at his collar, trying to loosen his tie but his fingers were numb and fumbling. "It's hot in here." He slurred, unable to even do simple tasks now.

"That's what you get for wearing and dress shirt and vest to a bar." Alfred said with a roll of his eyes, and moved to assist the other man. He unbuttoned his collar and tugged at the tie to help, but Arthur must have tied it wrong when he put it on because he only succeeded in pulling Arthur's neck closer. Arthur's hair slightly sweat damped hair was clinging to his flushed face. His body felt hot under his hands, and he was breathing somewhat loudly.

Alfred swallowed and bit down on his tongue. From this close, Arthur looked not _just _appealing. He looked...kinda hot.  
Alfred licked his lower lip slightly, his mouth suddenly felt parched. His mind jumped back to the cigarette, seeing it again held in Arthur's thin lips. He had thought himself lucky getting that close before but now...

_Just one. _One kiss can't hurt. And hey, he had a perfect opportunity to blame it on the alcohol. It was almost a 'get out of jail free' card. Alfred steeled himself and leaned forward. It was a fleeting peck, he was hardly sure he had even made contact before retreating, and waited to be smacked by the other man for his actions. But nothing came. Arthur didn't seem to have noticed anything at all. He was lying against the door, head now tilled slightly towards his shoulder, and his eyes were closed.

Alfred frowned, and regretted his haste. He had been so nervous, he hardly even felt the fleeting touch, let alone enjoy the moment. And he had been so sure Arthur would have done something, said something. But he seemed obliviously off in LaLa Land. _Maybe..._Alfred moved in once more, before his nerves could kick in and kissed him again, letting his lips linger a moment longer. Arthur's lips remained inactive against his own and he withdrew again. Arthur's eyes twitched, but they didn't open. _Still nothing? At least react, will ya? _Getting frustrated now, Alfred huffed, grabbed hold of Arthur's collar and pulled him forward almost roughly. He kissed him again, soundly this time, pressing harder against him, trying to get some kind of reaction, reminding Arthur he was very much still there.

This time, Arthur noticed him, but his reaction was something he didn't predict.

"Mnn..." Arthur uttered a soft sound, his lips parted slightly, and pressed back, almost sleepily.

Well, that was unexpected, but Alfred wasn't going to start complaining. It felt good, kissing him like this. Pressing him against the door, fingers now following the tendons along his neck, hot mouth tasting slightly chapped lips. Feeling more confident, he kissed Arthur harder, moving his lips against his, pressing his body closer, feeling the warmth seep into the fibers of his clothing and into his skin. It was intoxicating, the heat seemed to be driven under his skin, and followed the length of his veins, filling his body. Something warm and wet tapped his lower lip, lightly tracing it.  
Alfred pulled back, Arthur's open mouth followed not far behind. He sighed, releasing a puff of air, which mingled with Alfred's breathing. "America..." The Brit's eyes opened lazily, only able to reach half-mast, looking up at Alfred through his lashes. His eyes seemed faded and glossed over, and America's breath hitched, caught in his throat. Arthur's eyes were a faded Celadon, looking open, vulnerable and needy.

Alfred breathed deeply, feeling out of breath and light headed, forcing him to support his weight against his palms and forearms which were now placed on either side of the Island nations head. The way Arthur was looking at him, he just look so undeniably sexy, it caused Alfred's throat to tighten. This was not what he was expecting to happen when he had imagined kissing the other nation. He had thought that he would get a smack on the head, or a muttered laugh and a shove. Not...not a willing mouth attempting to devour him.

"America." Alfred shivered, feeling something warm slip under his bomber jacket. Arthur's hands felt hot, even as they traveled up his sides. He longed to feel them against his bare skin. Alfred leaned in again, but Arthur's hands slipped to his chest, stopping him. "Alfred, We shouldn't...not in the hallway."

Alfred blinked down at Arthur, unsure of what this meant. Was he saying this was...Was Arthur...inviting him in? "What do you suggest we do, then?" He asked carefully, finding himself holding his breath.

Arthur blinked at him, as if he should have known the answer. But Alfred had always been told he could never read the atmosphere before. Arthur scratched behind his ear and cast a hesitant look at his feet that was oddly adorable, and if Arthur let him, Alfred would have loved to smother him with a few more kisses. He shifted his weight against the door and suddenly produced his wallet, and a moment later the key card to his room was within his delicate fingers. "Would you like to come in?" Arthur asked him, holding out the key card.

Alfred looked back and forth between Arthur and the card, feeling torn. It was bad enough that he had kissed Arthur in the first place. It was bad enough that he had been making out with him like he was a moment ago. It was easier to play off one kiss to being drunk. But going into his hotel room? That was asking for more trouble and harder consequences. But Arthur's kisses were so wonderful, the heat between them so enjoyable. And Alfred's head had already been a little screwy from drinking himself. He was a lot closer to Earth than England, but his judgment was impaired, and not just from the Alcohol.

He leaned in and kissed Arthur again, taking the key card from him. He felt the Brit's arms come around his back, now free to do so, and kissed back with equal passion.

Alfred ran the key card through and fumbled with the door handle, trying to find it blind. When his hand finally found it, it turned easily, and swung inwards. The two tripped, nearly falling down, into the entryway. Alfred chuckled and Arthur answered with a laugh of his own, wrapping his arms around Alfred's shoulders and kissed him again. Alfred, still smiling against Arthur's mouth, kicked the door shut with his foot and moved farther into the hotel room, muttering apologizes, followed by more laughter when they ran into the side table next to the couch and again when they hit the far wall, turning on the hallway lights with a careless hand.

They settled there for a short time, Alfred taking this opportunity to remove his shoes, trying to pull them off by the heel with the use of his toes, while Arthur pulled at the collar of his shirt and reached up on his toes to place a heated kiss on his throat. Alfred voiced his approval, and pressed his pelvis into Arthur's with a shallow thrust, receiving a heated moan and a quick nip in return.

After he finally was able to remove his shoes, blindly kicking them backwards, Arthur pushed Alfred back, and pulled him down the hallway were they entered the bedroom, still entangled with one another. Alfred felt a moment of reason returning, knowing this probably was a good time to head back to his hotel himself and take a cold shower, but under the moonlight coming through the window, Arthur looked way to good to simply leave.

Alfred moved forward and kissed Arthur again, wrapping his arms around Arthur's waist to draw him in closer, their bodies flush together again.

Arthur touched their foreheads together, arms draped over his shoulders and hanging down Alfred back and made a content purr. "Alfred.."

"Yeah, that's my name." Alfred joked, which earned him a soft laugh and a kiss on the bridge of his nose.

Arthur kissed him softly on the rim of his glasses, then, using his teeth; he pulled Texas off Alfred's face and smirked at him, giving the Superpower's heart a jumpstart.

With out a warning, Arthur pushed him, overcoming Alfred's balance, and he was tripped backwards. The fall wasn't far, and his back hit the mattress with a soft_ creak_. He pushed himself up on his elbows, and looked up to see the sexiest thing he had ever, and would ever see, in his entire unnatural life: Arthur, moving up onto the bed, climbing up his body and between his raised thighs like a lioness, shoulder blades rolling, his eyes were ablaze with a new fire, and still holding Texas with his teeth. The light Alfred had turned on in the hallway lit his back, making Arthur appear to glow around the silhouette of his form.

Alfred was panting; his widened blue eyes meeting impossibly green orbs, faces tilled so close together, Arthur hovering over him with a hungry gaze. The whole scene seemed more surreal and dream-like by his slightly blurred vision. Lacking his glasses only magnified it. Alfred had never found himself responding to another man before, but after that, something was stirring in the south.

Alfred reached to take Texas back, but Arthur was quicker, and moved back. "Ah ah." He warned, and took the glasses in one hand, folding them carefully.

"I just want to put them somewhere out of the way. Promise." Alfred reassured.

Arthur gave him a somewhat skeptical look but he leaned left, and placed Texas gently down on the bedside dresser next to the decorative lamp.

Alfred watched this, and swallowed, liking the way Arthur's figure looked stretching like that above him. He let his hands travel up the Brit's sides, feeling the tension in the motion, and earned another noise from Arthur.

With Texas safe, the two returned to more pleasant activities. There lips met again, and Alfred couldn't help but melt. Arthur was now sitting on his hips, letting his weight press against him and fully engaging his body in the moment. His hands were playing with him, toying with the buttons of Alfred's shirt, spiraling in circles and let fingertips graze down his chest and flow over Alfred's abs.

It was intoxicating. The wet sounds their mouths were making was so erotic, it was making him go stiff. Arthur's mouth was opening and closing, and pushing against his in a dance, and it was all Alfred could do to keep up. Arthur's tongue made another appearance, brushing against his slightly parted lips for a moment and retreated. Alfred, in a desperate attempt, tried to do the same. He wasn't as smooth as Arthur, having a lot less practice at this sort of kissing, but Arthur seemed please with his initiative. The nation above him thrust his hips against him, and Alfred gasped aloud, tilting his head back, swearing loudly.

Arthur smiled slyly, seemingly delighted to have found something that caused such a reaction and did it again, running his tongue along the out rim of Alfred's ear.

A long moan was dragged from Alfred's open mouth, and he pushed his hips to meet Arthur's, needing more friction. He gripped Arthur's waist, pulling him into the motion. While his mouth was still open, Arthur descended upon him, kissing him harder, rolling his hips against him again, tongue tracing the rim of Alfred's teeth before a stealthy retreat. Arthur tilted his weight to one side, and in a sudden motion rolled to the side, used the momentum to pull Alfred on top of him.

Alfred would have blinked, had he not still been lip-locked with the nation now below him. He had started to enjoy the feeling of Arthur's weight against him, but this was good too. He continued to kiss him, using his tongue again and Arthur must have had the same idea because they met somewhere in the middle and Alfred moan loudly. He blushed deeply, embarrassed about how audible it had been, but Arthur didn't seem put off and massaged Alfred's tongue with his own, responding with a similar noise, perhaps to show him there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

Arthur's mouth tasted faintly of alcohol which at first was a little unpleasant, but after a moment it only seem to intoxify Alfred more. Other than that, Arthur didn't really taste like anything. He didn't taste like the Brit's favorite tea, or scones, or any terrible thing Arthur had ever cooked. He tasted like a mouth. And that didn't bother him in the slightest.

They soon settled into a rhythm as Alfred became more comfortable. Tongues explored each others mouth's while hands did the same, tugging at one another's hair, their clothing, pulling them closer. Their bodies shifted and moved against one another in a slow grinding motion. The friction was beginning to spread heat all throughout Alfred's body, and his head was spinning, making him dizzy.

Alfred came up for air, oxygen flooding his lungs, and he leaned his head back, lips already feeling quite swollen from such attention. He breathed, just as Arthur did, the other nation now settling back against the pillows, taking a short break from ravaging the man above him. He stretched out, arms reaching above his head and made a content purring sound, and Alfred just watched him, eyeing down the male body below him before coming back up to meet those hazy green eyes. Like this, Arthur looked absolutely stunning.

Arthur's hands reached up, fingertips tracing Alfred's jawline and threaded their way through his hair. "Arthur I...I should go." This was getting to be too much. Hell, this was too much. 'Just one kiss' had turned into several heated make-out sessions and now Alfred was pressing the nation into the pillows. And Arthur was clearly way to drunk to understand the consequences of these actions.

"Stay. Please." Arthur's soft voice startled him. These were the first real words he had said since they had entered the hotel room. He was looking up at Alfred with a sweet glow in his eyes and a sadness filled Alfred at the thought of disappointing him.

"I can't. If I stay we...I'm going to..." Arthur's fingers wrapped around the locks of hair above his ears and pulled him down, drawing him in for another kiss. Despite what Alfred had just said, he couldn't help but kiss Arthur back, his toes curling as Arthur sucked on his lower lip. Arthur's fingers continued tugging at his hair, traveling around Alfred's skull, his hips shifting against him, making friction that was causing more problems.

"Ah!" Alfred's hips bucked forward on their own and his arms nearly buckled. Arthur's fingers had found a new target, Nantucket. He twirled it between his thumb and forefinger, abusing it shamelessly. Alfred tried to duck away, but Arthur's mouth followed his movements, and his teeth grazed his neck. "St-ah-op. You-mhm- have to stop." He tried to make them sound more demanding, trying to put more conviction in them, but they ended up sounding more breathy, and more needy. It was useless. Arthur didn't seem to hear him. He tugged Nantucket hard, and Alfred's face continued to darken in shades, Florida now standing at full salute. Arthur was sucking just bellow his earlobe, fingering Nantucket, and moving his hips against him, and Alfred's willpower was crumbling.

"Arthur...Mmmh..Please. We have to stop. Your-ahh...your drunk. You're...n-ah! Your not thinking straight." He said, as Arthur peppered his neck with red hickeys. "You don't know what your-" Arthur bit him hard, leaving teeth marks, and Alfred gasped, hips coming forward again, and Arthur pushed back, creating more of that insatiable friction. "This isn't right. This is..." Hot. It was so hot. Arthur's mouth, his breath, his fingertips and hands. Arthur's hand trailing down the buttons of his shirt, tracing a line along his abdomen. Alfred's face, neck, his whole body felt ablaze. The tension in his body had built up to be nearly unbearable, and the friction felt so good, so relieving.

Although this was everything Alfred needed, it was not quite what he wanted. As much as he was loving this, Arthur was drunk, and he himself was a little over his own limit to make a reasonable and reliable decision. This was a bad idea, and he needed to do something soon. _I'll go back to my hotel room and take a cold shower. _His hips thrust against Arthur and suddenly the Briton had a hold of him through his pants.

"Fuck!" _Oh_...that felt good. Alfred's head dropped, his forehead pressed against Arthur's chest, against his rapidly beating heart. _Okay, new plan. I'll go back to my hotel room and take a hot shower and jerk off to this._ The Island nation was now stroking him through his pants, and squeezing gently, driving Alfred mad.

"_Arthur." _He moaned, and thrust against the warm hand of his former caretaker as Arthur's other hand abandoned Nantucket to draw circles along the back of his neck with his nails, causing an endless wave of shudders to run the length of his body. It was too hot. It was hurting him now, this bottled up need. "Ah...Mhm..." He wasn't going to last. Alfred was unraveling, seams slipped and popped. "Ooh." Just when Alfred thought Arthur was out of tricks he did something else.

"_AH_!" Alfred yelped, and groaned loudly in pleasure. Arthur had Nantucket in his mouth and wrapped his tongue around it, sucking, a jolt shot straight down his spine to the deep south and that was the last of it, Alfred was undone. He moved hard against Arthur's hand, fucking it mindlessly. He gasped and moved to kiss Arthur hard, bruising his lips, hands gripping at whatever he could reach first which ended up being Arthur's hair. He tugged it harshly; causing the Island nation to hiss, but Alfred swallowed it. Alfred moaned loudly into Arthur's mouth, and he wasn't ready when the moment arrived. He came hard with a startled cry, and gasped Arthur's name into the nation's mouth.

Every single muscle in his body tightened up and flashed hotly, a deep inhalation of breath caught in his expanded lungs, every synapse in his brain firing away. Every single cell in his body coiled up like a crushed spring, everything tense.

And then everything released in one breath, and his arms collapsed and he was suddenly dead weight. All of his will power cracked and reduced to a twitching trembling puddle as his body tried to recover. He breathed deeply, his lungs parched for air and his chest heaving, and yet, he couldn't seem to draw deep enough. He laid there, Arthur still drawing organic shapes, now along his shoulder blades.

When he tried to push himself up, he failed miserably. Instead, he settled for raising his head. Arthur's eyes were closed, his lips muttering something. Alfred claimed them with his own, still coming down from his high. Arthur kissed him back, digging his fingernails into his skin.

In all of his previous sexual escapades, which were a very short list considering most of them the self-loving variety, none could really compare with this. None had ever taken so much out of him or had him feel so complete.  
His own needs fulfilled, Alfred noticed Arthur's pressed against his thigh. Able to push himself up by now, Alfred hovered over the smaller figure, eyeing down his (drunkenly) flushed face, loosen collar, the three buttons at his collar that were still undone, and down to the exposed slice of smooth pale skin at his hip.

"Alfred..." Arthur sighed; his hands crept down to Alfred's wrists. His eyes were open now, staring down at him, making Alfred swallow hard. With that flushed face of his, Arthur could inspire anyone to fall for him. Even his eyebrows seem to enhance his expressions. Arthur had an angels face with a devil's charm.

Arthur had given him so much attention; it would be cruel to deny him some of the same. Alfred pulled away from Arthur's hands and placed a hesitant hand on his knee. Arthur's eyes never left his as his hand traced a line down, until he could feel Arthur through the fabric of his dress pants.

"Ahh..." Arthur's eyes slipped closed and his back arched up as Alfred's hand moved against him. "Alfred..." One of his hands slipped down his leg, and retreated up past his pelvis and up the center of his chest and rested over his eyes loosely. "_America.."  
_  
"I like you." Alfred blinked, not realizing he had said those words aloud.

He liked Arthur, he always had. Even as a young colony, Alfred had harbored a hidden crush on his caretaker. It had never been a big deal, and it had always been manageable. He had been satisfied with holding Arthur's hand and sitting in his lap when he read him stories. But as he grew older, his crush had grown stronger, and began to grow harder to contain. And the things that had been acceptable as a child were not It had been taken well when he aged. England looked down on certain behaviors, and America had to watch himself and how he acted.

It was partly for that reason, that he had wanted to separate from him, to no longer be seen as a little brother to England. If they weren't brothers than maybe….He thought if Arthur saw him as an equal, something else could form between them. But he was wrong. Breaking away from Arthur had severed them completely, and ruined any chance that they could be together. "Arthur. I like you." He said, more sure of himself this time. Truth was, he was always sure.

"I like you." Arthur repeated quietly, followed by a soft exhale.

_Ba-Dump. _Alfred's chest swelled, as he breathed in sharply. "Again. Say it again."

"I like you." Arthur's head fell back and he moaned loudly as Alfred continued to stroke him.

Alfred closed his eyes, savoring the sound of those words coming off Arthur's tongue in that sexy accent. He never wanted to forget the sound of those beautiful words. "Arthur."

"I like you."

He lean forward and kissed the nape of Arthur's neck. Then after a moment's pause, he sucked on his throat, leaving his own mark to remember, and Arthur's arched into it. "I love you."

"I like you."

"I love you." Alfred pressed, trying to will Arthur to repeat him. "I love you, Arthur."

Arthur's hips moved in time with Alfred's movements, moaning loudly, not stiffling or censoring his voice. "...I love you, Alfred."

His stomach fluttered and he kissed Arthur hard, letting himself believe for a moment that Arthur meant those words. That he wasn't saying them because he was drunk, because Alfred was stroking him, pushing him to the edge. He needed this. This one moment, he needed to believe.

It didn't take long for Arthur to end up in a somewhat similar state as Alfred had been. His back arched, fingers groping for Alfred's hair, his neck, his collar, anything he could get his hands on. When he unraveled, his mouth was open and Alfred swallowed his cries with greed. As Arthur fell from the heights Alfred had pushed him to, he sighed, falling back against the bed. "Mmn...Alfred..." he hissed softly.

"I love you." Alfred nipped Arthur's collarbone. "I love you." He kissed the red mark on Arthur's pale neck. "I love you." He kissed up his jawline. "I-" He pulled back, staring down at the man under him.

He was lying abnormally still, his chest rising and falling in a slow and steady rate, his eyes resting peacefully closed.

Arthur was already asleep.

Alfred stared down at him, rendered completely immobile. The weight of the situation came down on him in an instant, and he flinched hard. "I...Oh God..." He pushed himself off the bed, distancing himself from the sleeping nation, his mind coming to terms with what had just happened. He had just taken advantage of Arthur. Arthur had been helpless, and he had just... "Oh God." He repeated, and bolted. He had just helped himself to Arthur's body and was now standing in the wake of disaster. If or when Arthur woke up and remember what they had done, he was a dead man.  
Alfred reached the doorframe, nearly tripping through it, but stopped short of leaving the room. He looked back and Arthur's sleeping form. He couldn't leave him like that. But if he woke up the next morning to find Alfred gone, would it make the situation worse? It was hard to tell if leaving now would help or hurt. Either decision could get him an extra beating the next morning.

Alfred paced the floor, pulling at his hair; nearly making a decision, then stopped and went back to pacing. In the end, he sat next to Arthur, letting out a long and regretting sigh. He smoothed his hair, brushing the blonde strands out of his eyes. Arthur's hair was a lot softer than he ever remembered it being. At the moment, it was slightly damp from sweat, and it was messy, no doubt from Alfred's tugging. He continued to stroke it carefully, putting each strand back into place, while trying to enjoy it for probably the last time.

"I'm sorry. Please forget." He asked, knowing that Arthur couldn't hear him. Swallowing the last of his pride, he unbuttoned Arthur's shirt, and removed it, knowing that Arthur hated sleeping fully clothed on hotter nights. His fingers felt hot, seemingly sucking the warmth from the unconscious body. He couldn't help stealing a glance at his bare chest. Arthur lacked the larger muscle tone that Alfred had, but that didn't mean he was all skin and bones. He still had a strength to him, his thinner frame holding more lean muscles.

Alfred resists the urge to run his fingers along the pale skin, and instead traced it with his eyes, memorizing the different patterns of soft pale scars that lined his crush's chest. Alfred often wondered where most of them came from. Some of them he recognized; the gash on his right side from the Revolutionary War, a dozen scraps from the trench war and a few circular scars from bullets during World War 1, and a burn mark from the Battle of Britain in World War 2. But it surprised him how many he didn't know anything about; he mark on his left shoulder, a bullet wound below a collar bone, and many others.

Arthur was a lot older, and had seen more wars and hardships than him, and much of his old life was still a mystery to him. And it made sense that he should have the memories of old events carved into his flesh. Alfred himself was already scarred with his own past. Every nation wore his wounds as reminders of their sometimes-violent histories.  
Alfred shook himself, and return to the task at hand. He folded Arthur's shirt neatly, and after a moment he decided to leave the man's pants on, not trusting himself. He drew the covers up to his neck and tucked him in lovingly. He didn't allow himself anything more. He longed to steal one more kiss from him but he stood up. He didn't deserve it, after what he had done.

After that, he knew he needed to change his clothes. His pants were still soiled, and that was not something he could face with Arthur the next morning. He picked Texas up for the desk, and borrowed some pajama pants and a shirt from Arthur. After that he shut the door quietly and went to the bathroom. He took the hottest shower he could, and when he ran out of hot water, he turned it as cold as it would go.

He ended up lying on a makeshift bed of a spare blanket and his bomber jacket as a pillow on the couch that was a little to small for him in the living room, his feet sitting up on the arm rest. There he lay, staring at the ceiling, trying to come up with a way to apologize to Arthur, a way to make things right between them, though he knew it was impossible. He still hadn't come up with anything when sleep claimed him, and he fell into an endless empty dream.

~ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo~

**Closing notes:**

**Thanks for reading! If you like it, feel free to comment. If you didn't, feel free to comment, and tell me why. I hope to have the second half up soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred woke with a start out a dreamless sleep. He had forgotten to set an alarm to wake him the night before, and instantly wondered if he was late for the conference this morning. The sun was on its way up by now, spilling golden rays of light through the panes of glass, vaguely lighting the dim room. Alfred grabbed his phone to quickly check the time, and sighed in relief when the digits read that it was only 6:15 am in neon green numbers. He had until 8:30 to be in his seat and ready to go for the wrap-up review meetings before all the other nations went home, and prepare for the complete world meeting in 6 months.

His moment of relief was interrupted and Alfred jumped, hearing a door slam loudly and knew what that had to mean. Arthur was awake, he remembered everything, and he was pissed.

"Bloody hell! Fucking put your damn shoes by the door you git!." Arthur swore loudly, pushing himself away from the wall he must have fallen into after tripping over Alfred's poorly discarded boots. It hadn't been a door slamming then, Alfred decided.

"You're..you're awake..." He sat up quickly, pulling the blanket up to his chest, widened eyes searching Arthur face.

"No shit. And I've got the worst headache too. You should know better than to leave your shoes right in the hallway."

Arthur came and sat down hard on the couch and Alfred's feet. "I'm going to quit. I quit drinking."

"That's what you always say."

"I mean it this time." Arthur said, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. "My sodding head. Can you get me a bottle of water from the kitchen?" He thought for a moment. "And a gun. Just shoot me now."

"Don't think there's a gun, but I'll get the water." Alfred said, climbing carefully out of his blanket, making sure he didn't so much as brush against England as he walked past. He opened the refrigerator and peered inside. There wasn't much in there, just a nearly empty half-gallon of milk, a white unmarked Styrofoam take-out container, and three bottles of water. He grabbed one and when he came back he found Arthur now lying on his side on the couch. "Here. It's cold."

"Thanks, Alfred."

He didn't say anything.

Arthur didn't seem slightly upset at him. He hadn't come to shake him out of bed, didn't shout, curse, or cry. There was no lecture or outbursts. England didn't remember. Alfred wasn't in trouble. He was even thanking him right now. He got away with. Yet somehow, this made everything even worse. No one should get away with something so horrible. Some great hero he turned out to be. Alfred opened his mouth, wanting to say something. He couldn't keep this on his conscious but this meant admitting his mistakes out loud, telling Arthur what he had done to him, and ruining everything him and Arthur had managed to mend between them. How could he come out and say what he did? What could he say? 'So last night when you were really wasted, I took advantage of you, and let you jerk me off. But I'm not a dick, because I returned the favor. Really sorry about that by the way. Want to go get McDonald's on the way to the meeting?' Instead, he let out a long sigh.

"Sorry about this. Making you leave early to take me back. Probably said a lot of stupid stuff last night."  
Alfred winced, knowing Arthur probably mistook his sigh for one of annoyance. "No, it's...nothing you have to apologize for."

"Yes it is. I knew I shouldn't have let Ivan talk me into a round of Vodka Russian Roulette. Now I've got this stupid headache and I can't remember half the night."  
_  
I'd say you remember less than half._ "You don't?"

Arthur shook his head. "I remember everything up until leaving the bar, and then things get hazy. I remember getting to the door, and you being unable to find my wallet...then...I think-"

"It's okay. Don't force it." Alfred said a little too quickly, but Arthur didn't seem to notice.

Arthur reached up, searching for the water blindly. And when his fingers brushed Alfred's, the nation jumped and dropped it. It hit the ground with a somewhat disturbing crack, and rolled under the couch.

"Uh, sorry." He said and went after it, dropping to his knees in pursuit, embarrassed that a fleeting touch affected him so much. If he got so flustered from any kind of contact in the future, Arthur was going to start thinking something was up, and probably start asking dangerous questions. And that would not be good. He didn't think he could make a believable lie, and telling the truth was out of the question.

_I'm damned either way._ Alfred thought to himself grimly, looking under the couch. He stopped the as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

He reached out, having to stretch almost painfully far before his fingers brushed against the cool surface. He reached farther, and grabbed it successfully. He sat up, finally having reached the elusive bottle and stopped short. Having dropped to his knees in his search, he had inadvertently crutched closer to the nation; and now they were nearly face to face. Arthur's eyes were closed, head resting on his arm, and he was completely oblivious. Alfred swallowed hard. He looked so unaware, so venerable.

Sitting where he was, so close to Arthur, he could make out the red hickey he had left on the other man's neck, just shyly peeking out from under the collar of his shirt. His face was still flushed, and his hair was a mess, no doubt from all the restless rolling he often did in his sleep.

In a moment of weakness, Alfred leaned forward, and grazed those lips with his. They weren't as warm as they were the night before, but they still made him feel like melting.

It took only a second later before he realized what he had just done. He lurched back, throwing the water bottle into the air, and was crawling backwards with his hands, face now completely beat red and a look of utter horror on his face. Oh god, that was the worst second-most stupidest mistake of his life, the first having gotten into this mess in the first place. He had been lucky Arthur had failed to remember everything that had happened last night. And then, when he was in the clear, he'd fucked everything up, and kissed him.

Arthur's eyes shot open, and he sat him quickly. He blinked twice, and was now staring at him, looking more than a little confused. "Ah...Alfred? What..."

"Ah-I'm sorry! I didn't...I gotta go!" He stumbled to his feet. He ran towards the door and threw it open. He fled the apartment; he didn't even bother to close the door behind him.

~oooooooooooooooooooooo000000000000000000000000000o ooooooooooooooooooooo~

Arthur stared, looking blankly at the door that was left wide open. What was that about? Arthur reached up slowly, and touched his index finger to his lips. They felt no different to the touch, and he drew them away and looked down at his fingertips, oddly expecting them to give him some prove of what had just happened. Alfred had just kissed him and then fled in terror. That was unexpected. "Wha...What was that about?" He asked himself, as he forced himself to stand.

His head was still pounding, making thoughts hard to draw together, but he needed to force. There was a meeting that day, and Arthur refused to be present if he did not appear presentable. The last thing he wanted was to appear as if he didn't care about the meeting. If he looked presentable, maybe he would feel that way. He didn't want to embarrass his countries name or worse, the Queens, by looking terribly hungover.

After shutting the hotel door he went to the bathroom to take a much needed shower, taking the water with him, which had landed not far away, . He drank half the bottle in one go before he started removing clothing, still thinking about what had happened that morning.

That was more than a little odd. Alfred had never done anything like that, at least, not since he was a young boy. And even then, they had never kissed on the mouth before. But oddly enough, he was sure that Alfred's lips...felt familiar.  
_  
"Arthur."_

He stumbled, tripping over a discarded towel.  
_  
Alfred moving against him. Fingers running through his hair. A hot mouth on his neck. _

Arthur's hands claimed over his mouth, his eyes widening slowly. His body felt the sparks of little memories of Alfred's touches along his skin. In the mirror, Arthur could make out the red mark on his neck that had been made by Alfred's mouth. He sat down hard on the toilet to sort this out and strained to remember.

He couldn't recall much of it. Time seemed to leap back and forth on him. Alfred's hot breath on his face. Alfred helped him lean against the door. Alfred's tongue brushing against his. Alfred kissing him suddenly. Alfred's weight against him. He just couldn't seem to remember everything in the right order, and many of the pieces were still missing.

Arthur shook his head, trying to gain some clarity. _Okay, quick recap_. He had gone to the bar with some of the other nations after the meeting yesterday. He had gotten really drunk and Alfred took him back to his room. Alfred kissed him, he kissed back and...

Arthur swallowed and finished getting undressed and got in the shower, hesitantly touching the mark on his throat. Alfred and him had ended up in Arthur's bed and got...intimate. True, they hadn't taken off their clothes and 'did the deed' officially, but...

Arthur groaned and turned on the water, ruffling his hair under the water in frustration. "This is all messed up." He said to the shower certain. With a heavy sigh, he washed his hair mindlessly, still finishing his recap.

He must have fallen asleep first; because Alfred had moved to the couch and slept there instead of staying with him, and Arthur didn't blame him for it.

_Alfred kissed me, again. _This had triggered the memories from the previous night. This was not to say Arthur would not have remembered had Alfred not have kissed him that morning. On other occasions, Arthur had forgotten things that had happened during a wild night, and remembered later on. It would only have been a matter of time before he remembered this too. "This is all messed up..." He said again, and sighed. How awkward this was going to be when he had to see the American again.

Arthur knew he had been drunk last night, but that was still not a justification for his actions. Alfred had tried to get him to stop, but Arthur had not listened to him. When one was that far off the deep end and something felt that good, it was hard to even hear the word _'no.' _And it was clear that Alfred didn't want them to go that far yesterday.

But wait. Alfred had kissed him that morning. There was no way he was still drunk, so why...

Arthur shook his head and regretted it, his head pounding harder, and a dizzy spell nearly sent him to the ground. It was too hard to think. "Later...I'll deal with it later." He told himself, and he started washing his hair. For now, this issue would have to be put on hold, at least until after the meeting today.

~oooooooooooooooooooooo000000000000000000000000000o ooooooooooooooooooooo~

"Matt!" Alfred banged on the Canadian's hotel door harshly. "Open up I need to talk to you!" After leaving Arthur's room, he had run, knowing he had to get out of there fast. He didn't know where he was going to go, but before he knew it, he was in front of his brother's hotel room, seven flights up and six blocks away. "Matthew!"

The door opened and Alfred nearly fell flat on his face, having been leaning helplessly against it. The Canadian was dressed for the meeting already, or mostly so. His was wearing a brown suit coat over a clean pressed white shirt, his slacks wear on a neutral tan hue. His maroon tie hung around his neck only half tied, having been abandoned in favor of answering the American's interruption. "What's going on? You look awful America. What happened to you?"

"...I...It's all messed up." Alfred said breathing hard, having run all the way here at full speed, he was now spent of energy, and was forced to lean forward, his hands on his slightly bent knees for support.

"Messed up? Did something happen?"

Alfred pushed his way into Matthew's hotel room, feeling the need to pace the floors, searching for words. The Canadian let him, silently closing the door and waited patiently.

Meanwhile, Alfred walked the length of the living and crossed back, eyes following the floor as he went. "...I don't know what to...Last night.."

"Last night?" Matthew blinked and pushed his glasses up with his middle finger, seemingly confused. "This happened after you took Arthur back to the hotel?"

Alfred only nodded again.

"Did he start whining or crying again about the revolution?"

Alfred shook his head. "No..."

"Did he try and start a fight with you?"

"No...He..."

"Did he...do something?"  
_  
It was something I did._ "I..."

"He didn't...well...I mean to say...that is...did he kiss you?"

Alfred stopped in his tracks and looked up, mouth open and blushing hard. He didn't want to give his brother the wrong idea. He had been the one who kissed Arthur first. But he couldn't seem to admit it, his pride wouldn't allow it.  
Matthew seemed to take his silence for a yes, for he nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Well, he did have a lot to drink last night. I'm sure he didn't mean to..."  
_  
That's what I'm afraid of. _

"You know Arthur. He always acts strange when he's drunk. I've taken him home lots of times before myself, and he...well..." Canada fidgeted, getting embarrassed. "He's kissed me before too."

"He's...what?"

"I few times I've taken him back to his room; he's been so drunk he's kissed me."

Alfred dropped down to sit on the edge of the couch, feeling his heart sink._ He's...kissed other people. I'm not... _He  
swallowed a gulp of air, trying not to let the tears form. _I'm not anything special then, am I..._Alfred felt himself begin to tremble at the thought. He might have kissed anyone. That really hurt. Arthur may have very well have kissed anyone who took him home. It might not have mattered who it was. Alfred found himself thinking back on all the times  
Arthur needed help getting back to his hotel room, and tried desperately trying to remember who had taken him there. Matthew had taken him a few times, and France on occasion. That was a disturbing thought. And there was that one time Japan helped him when they had all been in Tokyo. Had Arthur kissed any of them before too? Did it not matter who he was with?

"It's alright Alfred." Matthew said, coming to sit next to him. He lightly touched his arm, trying to comfort him without really knowing the truth, or how Alfred was really feeling. "Arthur probably won't remember, or if he does, he'll apologize." _I don't want an apology… "_As long as you don't make a big deal about it, you two can forget about it."

I don't want to forget...

"I don't know what to do, Matt. What if he...what if he hates me?"

"Why would he hate you? I know you guys have your differences, and Arthur can still cry over the Revolutionary War when he's drinking, but you guys are still friends. He is still there for you, whether you need it or not. He thinks about your well being a lot." Matt patted Alfred on the back, trying to give some reassurance. "Believe me. Arthur's not going to let a stupid thing like this ruin your friendship. You've got to let it go or it might tear you apart. I mean, he's always calling me by your name, especially when he drinks. And I don't let that bother me, to much." He mumbled the last part more to himself it seemed, but moved on. "Everything will be fine. You'll see."

"But... I have to face him at the meeting today. What if...What if he doesn't talk to me?"

"Give him some space then." Matthew pointed out. "It's a little embarrassing to admit, especially for Arthur. You know how Arthur is. He's often too proud, and doesn't like loosing control, and doesn't know how to handle it when he does. If he is mad at you, it's only misplaced anger. He's only really mad at himself, and he'd be taking out on you for convenience and he'll get over it. It might not be tomorrow, but Arthur and you can get past this. I promise."

Alfred wasn't sure if he felt better, the situation hadn't really changed, but he had stopped shaking now. Matthew had made him feel a little less horrible, and gave him a little hope for him an Arthur to work something out.

"Maybe...maybe your right. Thanks."

"What are brothers for?" Matthew smiled, and Alfred couldn't help but return it, if only slightly. "We have to get going if were going to be on time for the meeting, Alfred. Do you have your suit?"

"...Fuck." Alfred swore. "I left it at Arthur's.."

"Come on," Matthew patted him on the back. "You can borrow something of mine."

~oooooooooooooooooooooo000000000000000000000000000o ooooooooooooooooooooo~

Alfred sat in his seat, pulling at the blue suit coat he had borrowed from Matthew since he had left his at Arthur's hotel room, wishing he had skipped today. Arthur wasn't there yet, and he wasn't sure what he would do if he brought up what happened that morning, or worse, that night. He might tell everyone, and then everyone would know what a horrible non-hero he was. Maybe he could just leave now before he got there. He could just sneak out now before it started. Or maybe, Arthur wouldn't show up. But no sooner had the thought come to him, did he notice the nation enter the meeting room. Alfred flinched, and instantly tried to look busy, looking over the notes from the previous day, and the notes he's printed off for that morning. He heard Arthur's footsteps getting closer, but he remained still, and kept scanning the page, unable to recall a single word he read. Arthur sat done silently next to him, and began folding and filing papers.

After a moment of silence, Alfred dared to peak over his notes to peer at the Island of his affection, who happened to be frowning down at something written on his notes, and began editing them. He had taken a shower, and looked less hung-over than he had this morning. His clothes were neat, and his hair was combed. The only hint that gave it away were the tired circles under his eyes. He was still looking down, chewing on the end of his pen, a thing he often did without realizing it.

Alfred's face flushed, remembering those teeth on his neck and he shifted in his seat. How was he going to be able to concentrate on the meeting with Arthur sitting so close to him? His heart was hammering away in his chest.

"Alright everyone," Germany said, starting off the meeting in a very German way: to the point, and all about business.

"We've got a lot of things to cover, and this is our last meeting. So please keep silent when others are speaking. When it's your turn, please speak clearly. And please try to keep the conversation relative to the information at hand, _America._" Ludwig said, giving him a knowing look.

Alfred smiled sheepishly and many of the others laughed in response.

"I kinda like some of the weird idea's Alfred talks about." Italy said, wearing his usually blissfully-unaware-smile.

"It's just like an American to go off topic." France said.

While this was going on, Alfred dared to glance at England, but he didn't even acknowledge him. Instead, he was speaking to Japan, who happened to be seated next to him. There heads were tilled together, and their voices were hushed. He sighed heavily, and tried to read his notes again. This was going to be the longest meeting of his life.

~oooooooooooooooooooooo000000000000000000000000000o ooooooooooooooooooooo~

Alfred stepped into the elevator, feeling quite deflated and defeated. Arthur hadn't said a single word to him during the meeting. He hadn't even looked at him. Even when Alfred had spoken up, saying his normal ridiculous ideas, Arthur had remained silent. He knew. There was no way he could deny it. Arthur knew what happened between them that night. Alfred should have considered himself lucky Arthur didn't tell the whole conference. He clearly had decided not to mention it in front of everyone; at least for now. It would have been a disaster if the other countries knew what had happened. But it still hurt, not talking to his friend at all, if they even were still friends after that.

Alfred's shoulders sank. What if Arthur didn't talk to him again? What if he wouldn't talk to him tomorrow, or the next day, or a decade after that? His heart hurt, thinking that this whole thing had ended what little him and England had left_. We had so little to lose, and I managed to fuck it up and lose everything._ The elevator opened and he jumped, seeing England standing before him, holding his notes in one arm, and in the other he held a desecrate plastic bag. He was equally surprised, but hesitated only a moment before stepping aboard.

Alfred stood stalk still, to nervous to even breathe. Until Arthur let of a breath "...Hey..."

"Hi." Well, at least he said something.

It was awkwardly quiet for nearly a full minute when Arthur finally spoke. "So...the meetings are done for this month."

"...Yeah."

"And it will be a full six month's before the next meeting..."

Alfred only nodded, not know what else he could say.

"The next one will be held in London...In case you didn't read your notes."

"Oh...Really?"

"Yeah. I'm not surprised you didn't read them." He had; thirty seven and a half times.

"Well...that should be..." Alfred didn't even know how to end his statement. This conversation was meaningless. It was mindless chit-chat, both of them trying to avoid talking about the one thing that mattered.

"So what's in the bag?" Alfred asked.

"Oh, well...when you...uh...left this morning, you left your clothes. So I...had them dry cleaned while we were at the meeting and had them dropped off here." He said, and handed them over, careful to keep there fingers from brushing during the exchange.

They were quiet again, both of them awkwardly listening to the rumble of the elevator, before Arthur made a frustrated noise and scratched his head.

"Okay look." His voice changed, this time sounding all business. "...about last night...I was..." He stopped and frowned, probably not liking his choice of wording. "I...we were..." He breathed out again, and started over. "I remember what happened. And I'm..."  
_  
Please don't. Don't say it.  
_  
"I'm sorry."

"Your...sorry?" That was a little unexpected.

"Well, yeah. I...I was really drunk. And you kept asking me to stop. I just...I don't know. I couldn't seem to...well...It...it wont happen again."

"It's not...it's not your fault. I could have...fought you off more."

"Well you were drinking last night too. It was...a mistake on both our parts."

"A mistake." Alfred's voice hitched, and his throat clenched. "The..."

Arthur perked up.

"The reason you did it...have you...with anyone else?" Alfred asked, feeling his face heat up, having asked such a personal question. He was practically asked England to tell him about his sex life. "N...never mind." He said frantically, waving both hands to try and brush the question away.

"Honestly, no. Matthew is the only other person I've...What I mean is I haven't-! I mean I've only kissed him...once or twice. And that was only because I thought-" Arthur suddenly cut himself off and his face colored. "I was drinking...a lot. I've...I really need to stop that, don't It...It only causes problems."

Alfred wanted to say something. His vocal cords were willing and his mouth was open, but his mind could not conjure up anything to return. After an awkward silence, the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

"Anyways..."Arthur broke the silence. "I guess I'll see you in six month's." The Brit said and stepped off the elevator, and Alfred could only watch as he walked out on him.

"_...?_"

Something suddenly clicked in Alfred's brain. What Matthew had said earlier finally came together.  
_  
"I few times I've taken him back to his room; he's been so drunk he's kissed me."_

"He always calls me by your name, especially when he drinks."

Alfred's eyes widened and he swore everything stopped. Arthur has always mistaken Matthew for him, whether drinking or not. Matthew said that Arthur called him Alfred when he was drinking. And Arthur had kissed him when he was drinking. Arthur had been calling Matthew 'Alfred' when he kissed him. Arthur thought he was kissing _Alfred _when he was drunk.

"Have...Did you.." Alfred tried, but his voice wasn't working. Arthur was leaving. He was going to leave and forget about what had happened, or try to. If he let Arthur go now, he might never know the truth.  
_  
I can't let it end like this!_ Alfred reached out and grabbed Arthur's arm and pulled him back into the elevator quickly before the doors shut, locking them in together.

"Alfred? What are you-"

Alfred hit the up button and then ran a finger down every floor button, all 25 flights. He had 25 flights to tell Arthur how he felt, to ask him what he meant to him. "I talked to Matthew this morning."

"You what?! Did you-"

"I didn't tell him what happened. Not really." Alfred shrank under a judging look from Arthur. "He thinks you kissed me. I didn't admit I started it...But he told me you had...kissed him before. But...the reason I'm bringing it up is...uh...well I was wondering...um..d-did you...think he was me?" He asked shyly, face burning with heat and color.

"Wha-did I what!?" Arthur's eyes widened and he took a step back, his back ended up against the button wall, hitting a few more floors they had already visited in the process.

"He told me you call him by my name sometimes, even when your drinking. And well...Did you think he was me when  
you kissed him?"

"Alfred I-I don't know what your-" Alfred, getting fed up with this, slammed his hands on both sides of Arthur's head, causing him to flinch.

"England," He said harshly, his heart aching and pounding against his rib cage. "Did you kiss Canada because you thought he was me?!"

"Ah..." Arthur looked so trapped, eyes darting around, looking for some means of escape. When he found there was no easy exit, he went to plan B. His posture responded, attempting to look offended and started to reply sharply before Alfred countered.

"Don't lie." He said, knowing the Island nation well enough.

Arthur paused, mouth still open before deflating. "I..." he hung his head, looking down at the carpet at his feet. "You two look so much alike..."

This was Arthur's way of admitting it with really saying so, but Alfred wanted to hear those words for himself. "So it's true."

"Y...Yeah. I thought...I was sure he was you."

"So you...wanted to kiss me?" He asked, his voice sounded hopeful.

Arthur's eyes shifted, looking up at him though his lashes and Alfred almost lost it. How could he look so attractive when he put on such a pathetic face like that? 'Huh?" He asked, clearly playing dumb.

"Do not insult my intelligence. If you kissed him thinking it was me, and you haven't done that with anyone else, then why? Why only me?" He asked him, leaning closer, which caused Arthur to jump slightly. "Why not France? Or Japan?"

"You git." He looked away, attempting to tilt himself away, embarrassed. "It's because there not you."

Alfred held his breath. They weren't him. Arthur wouldn't kiss another nation on purpose or drunk because they weren't him. "Do you...have...feelings for me?" Alfred asked, and nearly felt like dying from the embarrassment of having to ask that to his fellow nation.

"Feelings? Do you mean-"

"Do you like me, England?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You said it. Last night."

"I was drunk!"

"So you lied to me?"

"Ah..." Arthur turned away again; face a bright shade of red. Alfred noticed the small mouth shaped red mark he had left him with and decided to gamble. He leaned in, and kissed it. "Ah!" Arthur gasped, his hands moved to push Alfred back. "What are you-"

"I like you." Alfred said, not letting Arthur push him away. Not this time. "I mean it. I meant what I said last night. I like you, England."

Arthur gasped again, and his legs seem to suddenly fail and if he hadn't made a swift move of grabbing of his shoulders, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland would have probably ended up on his knees in front of him. The two of them stood there, just breathing together. Their breaths mingled, there faces so teasingly close. They stared into each others eyes, the elevator continued to open and close, allowing either one to leave, but neither even noticed.

"Your...your kidding me.."

"I'm not. I like you. I...I have for...a really long time."

"America." Arthur spoke, his voice squeezed, and he cleared his throat. "America...I..."

"England please." Alfred pleaded. "Tell me the truth, for once."

England hesitated, but nodded solomly. "I've liked you for a very long time, America. And not just in the fatherly figure way." He admitted. "When you grew up, I…Well I realized you weren't a child anymore. I started feeling….different… about our relationship. But I tried to continue playing the part of your brother. I became over zealous in my act, and I suppose my behavior drove you to seek independence. I thought you must have hated me, as many of the colonies did."

Alfred wanted to argue, to tell Arthur that it wasn't only his will, but the will of his people that helped drive him to independence. That in acting out and becoming a real nation, and severing the brotherly ties between them, they might become something more. But he found he couldn't speak. All these years he had thought that Arthur hated him for breaking away from him.

"I never hated you England."

"And I never hated you America." Arthur smiled, but it was a sad one. "But…Regardless of my feelings...What happened was a mistake."

"What do you mean?"

"It means, that though we both have mutual feelings for each other, I think it is best that we remain as we always  
have."

"But…But why?" Alfred asked him. "I mean, sure, yesterday was probably a bad way to bring us together, but what's stopping us now? England. I've liked you for so long. Even..." His voice broke and he paused. It was hard bringing up the past; it was a sore spot in both of their lives. "Even before I became independent. During the civil war, and through both world wars, I've been head over heals for you. And when I finally do something and...Now you're telling me...That just because I picked a moment when you were drunk to make a move, that means there can never be an us?"

"America, its not just because of last night. It's more than that."

"Like what?"

"We are so far apart."

"I've got planes that can cross it in hours. It's not that far."

"its not just an ocean that separates us." England said. "Ideas, lifestyles, culture, beliefs and language. Alfred...We are so different. Have you really never seen it?"

It was in that moment that Alfred saw the distance between. England was within his grasp; physically, he was there. But on a different level, he was so far away. The distance between them was vast, farther than the ocean that separated their shores. Was Arthur to far away to hear him?

Arthur tried to pull away, and Alfred's hand didn't resist. He watched as Arthur slipped through his fingertips, and could only stand there and watch as he departed. He was really leaving. And Alfred couldn't seem to bring himself to chase after him again.

He stepped off the elevator, and watched as Arthur disappeared, out of the hotel and out of reach, forever.

"Are you really letting him go?"

"Japan?" Alfred felt himself flush, not knowing the other nation had been there. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough." Kiku said, and pushed himself off the wall and took a few steps closer. Though he approached him, he was looking in the direction England had gone. "So, you're giving up on him?"

"...I tried. I told him everything...He...I don't think I can change his mind."

"So that's it then? I thought Americans were the best at making movies with happy endings."

"This isn't a movie."

"No. Your right. This is the real world. And in this world, the only happy endings are the ones you create for yourself." Kiku said.

"Japan!" Italy's voiced carried down the hallway. Alfred and Kiku both turned to see him waved excitedly, Germany standing next to him. "Me and Germany are going to go have lunch before we head to that airport! Want to join us?"  
Kiku smiled and called back. "Sure. It is a long flight home." He took two steps before looking back at Alfred. "It's rush hour right now, so I'm sure all the taxi's are delayed. You can probably still catch him, if you want you happy ending." He smiled knowingly, before he turned back and joined his friends.

Alfred watched them only briefly, before to turned towards the front doors and gave chase. The automatic doors opened to slowly, and clipped his shoulder, but he ignored it.

"England!" He shouted, searching for his former caretaker. He found him, standing before an open taxi door, nearly ready to step in.

"America?" He seemed surprised to see him so suddenly.

Alfred raced to stop him, and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"America, I told you-"

"Don't talk." Alfred interrupted." Just listen."

Arthur looked as if he might protest, but let a lengthy breath and turned to face him.

Alfred took a deep breath before exhaling smoothly. His was his only chance. He had to make Arthur see.

"I understand why you're feeling this way.. I know you don't think it could work. Because were different, because were so far apart, because we got off on a bad start. We are different nations with different cultures and different ideals. And I'm kicking myself for not coming to you in a different way. Maybe if I had just left when I said I should have last night, maybe if I had done something different, you wouldn't be feeling like this. Even if we never gave it a shot, I'm still going to be in love you with. Please, England, Arthur, I can't just let you go home knowing this is the end before anything even began. We may be nations, and we have to think about what's best for our own countries. But why does that mean we can't be a little selfish and want something for ourselves? Why can't we be happy? I'll try. I'll try to reach out across this distance, but I can't do it by myself."

"The self-proclaimed hero admits he can't do everything?"

"I can do anything, if I know you're with me. Arthur. Please tell me. Tell me you don't want to even try."  
Arthur hesitated, seemingly unsure of himself.

"Tell me that there's hope, for us."

England still stood there silently, and Alfred half-worried his words and fallen on deaf ears. "America..."

"England." His head tilted, looking his eyes. They held a new color; an odd swirling of vibrant teal and an earthy evergreen. "Tell me you think there's hope."

England moved, but not away this time. Instead he drew closer, tentatively leaning against America.  
"Why can't you give up? Why can't you just let me go home in peace?" The Island nation asked, face pressed into Alfred's neck.

"Because I'm a hero." He joked. "I can't give up unless I know. i need to know if this is going somewhere good."  
Arthur pulled back and tilted his head up, and the two nations looked at one another, eyes meeting in one since, eyes looking back across an ocean of distance horizon in another. The distance was great, and many things stood defiantly in there way. But they were seeing each other. Their eyes met. Carefully, they both reached out.

"I love you. Give this a try. Give me some hope." America said, nearly whispering.

England leaned forward and placed a kiss on America's lips. Alfred's heart flickered and he kissed him back slowly. It was brief, and not overflowing with passion or promises. But it warned him all the same. "I...I'll call you." America blinked. "When I get home; I'll call you. It will be a while, a few hours probably. My plane has to stop in Iceland to refuel. But I'll call you."

"You'll call; the second you get home? Even before you unpack?"

Arthur rolled his eyes but smiled. And it was the most beautifully genuine thing America had ever seen, "Before I even unpack."

"You'll think about it?" Alfred asked, tightening his grip on Arthur's hand, afraid if he let go this time, it really would be the end. "You'll...give me a shot?"

"It may be long and one done in the dark, but..." "I think both of us deserve to know if were doomed to spend the rest of our lives together." He voice was dripping with sarcasm, but that didn't fool Alfred. England's eyes were shinning with that new color; the color of hope. "We'll talk about...us. But," England's eyes narrowed. "I'm going to be going to bed shortly afterwards. I am still feeling hung-over from last night; I won't let you keep me up all night again to hear your stupid chatter."

Alfred's heart leapt, despite the insult, and he through his arms up and gave a loud _whoop_, causing a few passerby's to stare. And when Arthur rolled his eyes, Alfred threw his arms around him and did an excited spin.

"Alright, alright! Put me down! My plane will leave without me if I'm not at the airport in forty minutes."  
America put him down, but gave him one last squeeze before he let go, and watched him slip away again, but this time he wasn't afraid. England wasn't running away from him now.

"Don't forget to call me!" Alfred shouted, and Arthur answered with a open palm from the window.  
Alfred watched as the taxi pulled away, joining the other cars on the busy streets, and didn't move until he lost sight of it. When at last it disappeared from sight, he turned back towards the hotel and couldn't help from letting out another _WHOOOOP_, receiving a few more concerned looks from the strangers passing by, before he headed back to his room to collect his things, and head for home himself.

With his spirits high, he whistled while he packed and danced his way back down to the lobby. In the taxi, he couldn't help but smile, and tipped the driver twice more than the cab-fair cost. It was really happening. Arthur and him were really going to give love a try. Though it had started out on rough and tormenting seas, Alfred could feel the calming swell of a new wave. The water churned, but they were warm and welcoming.

Though Arthur had expressed concerns, Alfred new in his heart that this was right. And though they were both shy and inexperienced, and not everything would come easy, Alfred new that they could have a fairytale ending, and that their story could end with a happily ever after...

~oooooooooooooooooooooo000000000000000000000000000o ooooooooooooooooooooo~

**Closing Notes: Finally done. Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing it. I hope you will consider reading more of my work in the future..**


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